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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707886">They Are Out There Saying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle'>Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman Ninja (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Everyone Fears Red Hood, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Getting Together, I don't know what this is anymore stop looking at me, Japanese Culture, Japanese Mythology &amp; Folklore, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, JayDick Summer Exchange, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, POV Jason Todd, POV Outsider, Poetry, Rumors, Shy Jason Todd, The Author Regrets Everything, The author is a nerd, Undercover Missions, Unreliable Narrator, a tiny little bit of a case, can this work remain anonymous forever?, don't get too excited about it, my tags are a mess, of sorts, you will see what I mean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:20:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a rumour going around the Hida Province that the infamous wandering monk was secretly courting the blue-eyed ninja. Not only has the monk not discarded his earthly desires, said some, but he actively sought to indulge them, insisted others. Something ought to be done, proclaimed few, lest he would turn into a demon or come back as a vengeful ghost, feared all.<br/>Meanwhile, Jason and Dick were just trying to live their best life.</p><p>“So you’re saying,” Jason decided to sum it all up, “that a rival clan of surprisingly sloppy ninja,” properly trained ones wouldn’t stomp all over the place, after all, “is trying to enact revenge by going after an old calligrapher? Because you found a piece of rock?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JayDick Summer Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/gifts">empires</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>To the recipient of this story: forgive me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“Is it true,” asks the listener, “that in Moscow, at the Red Square, cars are being given for free?”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“It is absolutely true,” the radio host replies, “just not in Moscow but in Leningrad, not at Red Square but Revolution Square, not cars but bicycles, and not given for free but stolen.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>- A popular Radio Yerevan joke</p>
</blockquote><p>After a long journey down the Tōkaidō Road, a slightly shorter trek on the roads less travelled to the Inabayama Castle, a truly arduous hike up and down way too many mountains of the Hida Province, and an unplanned detour to the rural idyll of Shirakawa Village because he had taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in the wrong valley, the infamous red hooded monk finally reached the hidden seat of the Bat Clan.</p><p>It was the rice planting season, so the paddy fields on the outskirts of the village were bustling with activity. Everyone, even the ninjas not training at the practice grounds, was out there to lend farmers a helping hand, and they all watched him. As he walked the beaten path to the settlement, they craned their necks and shielded their eyes from the sun to get a better look at him. He could hear them whisper too; a gasp of <em>it’s him</em> from an old village man, a shushed <em>that red hooded monk</em> from a child pulling on a sleeve of his mother’s working clothes. He wondered if they remembered this attire was but a cover and the person wearing it wasn’t even a Buddhist. </p><p>“Master Red Hood!” A guard by the entrance of the village respectfully bowed. Nice to know at least someone here seemed to recall Jason was one of the time-travelling, foreign Bats (because that was his life now), not an actual wandering monk of the Fuke Sect.</p><p>He went straight to the point. “Where’s Nightwing?” So what if he was being rude – he was dead tired, so done with the lack of modern transportation, and out of fucks to give.</p><p>Also, he really wanted to see Dick and his stupidly pretty face again.</p><p>At the mere mention of the golden boy, the stone-faced man got a dreamy look in his eyes and a goofy smile on his face. Right. Of course Dickhead went and charmed everyone in this village. </p><p>Jason snapped his fingers right in front of the man’s face to get him to focus.</p><p>“Master Nightwing is at the practice grounds,” the guard said, schooling his expression into default blankness. “I shall show you the way, Master Red Hood.” He bowed again.</p><p>“No need, I remember where it is.” The fucker probably just wanted an excuse to leave his post and ogle Dick, anyway.</p><p>He still hurried after Jason, practically running to keep up with his fast stride. He kept talking too, weirdly insistent on making small talk about one of the trinkets the Replacement had pawned off at him the last time they had met. (<em>Skulking around with a conveniently hidden face in a getup worn by every other ninja on a recon mission, you couldn’t have been more obviously a spy</em>. <em>At least carry some temple keepsakes, like an actual pilgrim</em>.) Sensing that the guard would neither shut up nor let him be, he humoured him with curt answers, though his mind was somewhere else. Like, the person he was about to meet. </p><p>One – just one, mind you – <em>not terrible</em> thing about the Quake Engine fiasco was that being stranded in 16th century Japan brought Jason a hell of a lot closer to his little, dysfunctional <strong>not</strong> a family, especially to Dick. Jason felt he could honestly say they were sorta-kinda friends now, a development that would have made eleven-year-old street rat deliriously happy, being best buddies and badass crime fighters with the boy wonder, <em>the Flying Grayson</em>, literally a dream come true. At twenty-something, however, Jason couldn’t help but wish for more, and lately, he got it in his head that maybe Dickie wished for more too…? Like that one time when he caught him staring, and Dick didn’t look away in shame (like Jason would have totally done), only smiled at him even brighter.</p><p>But that was probably just wishful thinking on Jason’s part.</p><p>The guard behind him was making curious choking noises now, but Jason brushed it off, not particularly interested. Whatever got that guy’s panties – or whatever it was he was wearing – into a twist, it wasn’t any of Jason’s business. </p><p>Thatched, gable-roofed houses cleared as he reached the practice grounds. His eyes immediately fell on the uneven bars made with bamboo, a balance beam made with the trunk of a cedar tree, and other such makeshift gymnastics equipment tucked into the corner of the open space. They were currently in use, for lo and behold, Nightwing was practising his routine and turning all the ninjas who seemingly forgot to practice their <em>kata</em> into a bunch of amazed children, gaping at him in wide-eyed wonder.</p><p>No matter the place and time, it seemed like the Nightwing Effect, as Jason liked to call it, was as strong as ever. </p><p>“Red Hood!” Dick called the moment he noticed him. He let go of the bar he was spinning around, made a few flips (forever the show off) and landed on his feet with the ease of a cat.</p><p>Jason let his eyes roam over his graceful form. Even if he were woken up in the middle of the night, he would be able to describe him, recall every single detail down to the arch of his brows and the exact shade of his skin. Yet, after each recon mission, each period of being away and unable to see him, it stunned him anew just how lovely Dick was to look at. </p><p>Dick walked closer, craning his neck to look where he guessed his eyes were. He appeared genuinely pleased to see him. Absence really did make a heart grow fonder, it would seem. And damn, if that smile curling his lips wasn’t like a sucker punch to Jason’s gut. </p><p>“When did you get here?” Dick asked, cocking his head to the side.</p><p>Jason cleared his suddenly dry throat. He was stupidly grateful his red basket hat was hiding his face from the view. “Just now.”</p><p>His expression twisted into a sympathetic wince. “You must be tired. Come on,” Dick grasped his wrist. “You can tell me what Two Face is up to while you rest.”</p><p>*</p><p>Ichitarō would recount that story a bit differently.</p><p>He had noticed him from far away – a flash of red descending the mountain, approaching their village from the north-east, the direction of the demon’s gate. The day was <em>butsumetsu</em>, symbolising the one when Buddha died so the most unlucky of them all, and the time was noon, with the sun shining directly above their heads. </p><p>A time when travellers cast no shadows. </p><p>People working in the paddy fields froze at the sight of him, rice seedlings clutched in their shaking hands. Taller and stronger than any man that ever walked this land, he looked like a depraved monk who had turned into a demon. For all they knew maybe he <em>was </em>a demon, as no human man could have single-handedly bested in combat all the warrior monks of Mount Hiei – yes, the word of his deeds had reached as far as their hidden village in Hida. Even Ichitarō, who knew him to be the Bat ninja from across the time, felt his insides turn to ice when Red Hood drew close. </p><p>He hastily bowed with polite greetings on his lips. </p><p>“Where’s Nightwing?”</p><p>Ah, Master Nightwing! Ichitarō felt a pleasant tingle at the thought of his graceful form flying through the air and his unreal blue eyes. Master Nightwing who soaked in their ancient teachings like a sponge and taught them the ways of fighting from the future in return. Master Nightwing who would not take a lover, no matter who professed their desire for him. Nitarō, the last person who tried to win his affection, cried for days when he had been denied his embrace*. A very real possibility of rejection was disheartening, sure, but Ichitarō still promised himself to try his luck and confess sometime soon.</p><p>He startled, as fingers were snapped right in front of his eyes. “Master Nightwing is at the practice grounds,” he quickly said and thinly swallowed. Even though he couldn’t see his face, he had a feeling that Red Hood was displeased with him for some reason. To rectify his transgression, whatever said transgression might have been, he hurried to show him the way. </p><p>As they walked, Ichitarō noticed an <em>ofuda</em> talisman tucked behind Red Hood’s belt. Narrowing his eyes, he carefully read the characters calligraphed upon it with patient strokes of a brush and a small gasp escaped from his mouth.</p><p>“Master Red Hood! I see you are carrying an <em>ofuda</em>.” He asked, trying not to sound too curious – but he was so very curious. The characters on the talisman clearly stated it had been issued at the Grand Shrine of Izumo, a place where a powerful deity dwelled. Pilgrims from far away made their way to that land, known for bringing fates together, to ask the god of that shrine for the happiness of requited love and a good match in marriage.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Did your pilgrimage bring you to the land of Izumo?” Ichitarō inquired, going for nonchalant; internally, he was running around, waving his hands and screaming.</p><p>…Could it be that Master Red Hood travelled from the Domain of Lord Two Face, where he had been sent on a mission, to the Grand Shrine? Could it be he set off on such a long journey just to clap four times before the deity, asking to be brought together with his destined mate?!</p><p>Rough and tough, Red Hood never struck him as the type that cared about love, but…</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Ichitarō stopped in his tracks, his jaw hanging low in an open display of emotion unbecoming of a trained ninja. He looked wide-eyed at the back of Red Hood’s head, barely able to contain himself and various exclamations of surprise, all the while burning with the raw need to <em>know</em>. There were so many questions; <em>when</em> followed by <em>how</em>, but most importantly <em>with whom</em>.</p><p>Whose destiny was entwined with Red Hood’s?</p><p>He needn’t have to wait long for his answer. He ran after Red Hood and reached the practice grounds just in time to see Master Nightwing do that elegant flip, then land lightly on his feet and in a few quick strides come up to his clan mate from the future. His face was adorned with the brightest of smiles, one he had never shown to Ichitarō or Nitarō, or anyone else for that matter. </p><p>He felt the dots connecting themselves in his head and the dawning understanding, like a slammed fist, broke his heart into thousands of little pieces.</p><p>Tonight he would join Nitarō to drink their sorrows away.</p>
<hr/><p>Two Face, Jason grumbled as he was led through the village, was up to the same fucked-up shit all of Gotham’s finest (plus Deathstroke) were. He was spreading his special kind of madness throughout the land and turning this whole place into a giant, grotesque freak show. Also, he was making attempts – thwarted by yours truly – to gain allies with the warrior monks.</p><p>Dick only spoke once they reached the residence Eian gifted his <em>Bat brethren from the future</em>. “Were they by any chance,” he asked, pushing the sliding door open to let Jason in. “The same warrior monks a certain <em>red hooded</em> individual,” he turned around, a shit-eating grin fixed on his face, “defeated ten thousand of, then bathed in their blood? Hence the colour of his basket hat?”</p><p>Jason almost tripped over the <em>geta</em> sandals he had just toed off. “What?!” He demanded, dumbfounded.</p><p>Dick burst into his most obnoxious laughter reminiscent of his days as Robin. At once, Jason felt like an awkward fourteen-year-old with a crush, rather than an intimidating twenty-something-year old (also with a crush) thought capable of defeating a ten thousand of anything.</p><p>“There were <em>ten of them</em>,” he said through clenched teeth, exasperated at the bullshit gossip and irrationally angry at himself. “And there was <strong>no</strong> blood-bathing.”</p><p>Seriously, the hell was wrong with rumours in here?! They spread faster than in Gotham despite a glaring lack of twitter and got blown out of any resemblance of proportion!</p><p>When Jason got into that fight he knew the locals would talk, as he had his hood off and his eyes were bound to turn completely green, but for fuck’s sake <em>bathing in the blood of his enemies</em>. Like, how did people even come up with stuff like this? Jason himself would have never pulled such morbid shit, even at his most post-Pit rabid.</p><p>
  <strike>Unless the enemy was Joker.</strike>
</p><p>His mood soured. He stepped up into the tatami rooms, angrily taking off his basket hat, then facemask and setting them on a low table together with his pistols. He flopped down on a <em>zabuton</em> pillow with a sigh. Damn, he was tired, so fucking tired of this place, of Joker playing a feudal overlord, of Joker still breathing, period. But even more than that, he just wanted to go home.</p><p>(And maybe get the courage to ask Dickie out one day).</p><p>“Hey,” Dick joined Jason in the tatami rooms and handed him a cup of water. His domino mask was already off. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at how ridiculous that rumour was.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, accepting the water but shying away from his blue eyes. It wasn’t Dick that upset him. No, Dick never, not even <em>before</em>, treated Jason like a wild card or a villain in the making, and neither did he fault him for his thirst for revenge. “Demon Brat and Replacement aren’t back yet?” He asked, feigning disinterest.</p><p>But damn, he hoped they weren’t. Hanging out with the golden boy <strike>(and doing some writing)</strike>, was about the only thing that made Jason feel better about himself and this whole sent-into-the-past situation, especially if Timbo and Damian weren’t there to steal Dick’s attention with their nerdy and bratty ways.</p><p>“No, they’re still checking up on Alfred in the Owari Province.” He looked at Jason through his eyelashes, then bit his lower lip, an unconscious little habit of his. “So, since it’s just the two of us -”</p><p>…There was also the fact that his mind never stayed on dark thoughts for long when around Dickie, as everything about him sent it straight into the gutter. Like for instance, that just now – it could be and probably was a prelude to a perfectly innocent suggestion, but Jason would love to see it as an opening line to the enactment of one of his fantasies, featuring himself, the golden boy, and no clothes.</p><p>Dick didn’t get to finish his part, as the sliding door was pushed open and an elderly lady randomly and unceremoniously, not to mention unapologetically, invited herself in. She launched into a monologue, speaking in a dialect so thick, Jason for the life of him couldn’t make it out. Dick, however, apparently picked up the local lingo already, because he jumped to his feet and promptly engaged in a round of <em>you</em> <em>shouldn’t have</em>s and <em>oh but it’s my</em> <em>pleasure</em>s. <strong>Presumably</strong>, that is since all he had to go by was the context of her holding a tray of food and both of them bowing to each other.</p><p>She stepped up inside the tatami rooms, shooing away Dick’s helping hands. Jason made space on the table and bowed in thanks, pretending that her flinch at the colour of his eyes didn’t bother him. It wasn’t her fault that she had never seen a person with irises like his before and it wasn’t Jason’s fault either that the Pit painted a ring of green around his pupils.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, he looked at the offered food – rice balls and two squares of tofu served on two tiny plates. He knew that ninja were vegetarians and going undercover as a Buddhist monk meant no meat for Jason, but goddammit, what he wouldn’t give for a shitty Batburger right now, even with its stale bread and wilted lettuce.</p><p>“I will starve in this shithole,” he muttered to himself.</p><p>Dick chuckled. “Don’t be so dramatic, Jay.”</p><p>“I need to get my protein from somewhere,” he hissed back at him. “Especially with this body mass, <em>in case you didn’t notice it</em>.”</p><p>Dick gave him a once over, strange expression passing through his face. “Believe me, I did notice.”</p><p>And what was that supposed to mean exactly? Because if Jason didn’t know any better, he would have thought that it sounded a bit…flirty? Maybe? Possibly…?</p><p>He didn’t know, okay?! Dick sometimes sounded coquettish without meaning to, which had the unfortunate effect of giving all sorts of creeps the idea that they had a shot with him. Jason loathed to be one of them, reading too much into his words or seeing intent in his smiles that simply wasn’t there, but damn.</p><p>(He wished.)</p><p>“You can have mine if you want.” Dick pushed a plate with his tofu closer to Jason.</p><p>“That is your solution?” He asked, relieved the awkwardness had passed. “Will you feed me your tofu every day?” He took the proffered plate anyway, oddly touched.</p><p>The elderly lady – who apparently was still there – audibly gasped, her eyes growing wide. She hugged her tray, mumbled something unintelligible, then in record time fled out of the house.</p><p>Jason felt a bit weirded out by the sudden exodus. “…What was that about?”</p><p>Dick shook his head. “No clue.”</p><p>*</p><p>If anyone bothered to ask Gin, one of the village women, she would tell them that run-ins with warrior monks and perils of the vegan diet <strong>were not</strong> the topics of conversation between Master Nightwing and Master Red Hood.</p><p>…But it wasn’t like she meant to listen in on them. Of course she didn't! Gin wasn't nosy, unlike some people, not to point fingers at anyone <strike>(her next-door neighbour)</strike>. It just so happened that while she was cooking a pot of rice, through the crack between the sliding doors she caught a glimpse of Master Nightwing holding hands with that fearsome, wandering monk, and –</p><p><em>No</em>, Gin firmly told herself, she wasn't curious. She was too busy minding her husband's household and her own business to care about some quality gossip material. Besides, onigiri wouldn’t make themselves and she had a hungry husband out in the paddy fields, waiting for his meal.</p><p>Master Nightwing, though. He was smiling up at Master Red Hood like he never did at anyone in this village – brightly and <em>adoringly</em>. No wonder, Gin sagely nodded to herself, that she spied with her little eye that poor boy Ichitarō running back to his post in tears just now! He could read the air* just as well as Gin herself could, and that smile left no doubt in her mind with whom Master Nightwing’s affections lay.</p><p>But Gin wasn’t nosy. Helpful and caring was what she was and that was precisely the reason she found herself slipping into her <em>geta</em> sandals and trotting to the foreign ninja Bats’ residence, a tray laden with onigiri and hastily put together side dishes in hand. She didn’t want to linger at their place, because <strike>(getting just one good look would do)</strike> she had nothing but respect for their privacy and the curiously coloured eyes of infamous Red Hood made her uneasy. Though she did delight at him and Master Nightwing stealing glances at each other when they thought their companion wasn’t looking.</p><p>Oh, Gin knew exactly what was brewing in here. She bowed her head to hide her smug smirk and just as she was collecting her tray, her eyes happened to fall on the <em>ofuda</em> talisman Master Red Hood kept by his belt.</p><p>Then, the man in question spoke, and her mind came to a screeching halt.</p><p>She didn’t hear it wrong, did she? <em>Will you feed me your tofu every day</em> was what he said, right?</p><p>Right?!</p><p>RIGHT?!</p><p>
  <strong>RIGHT?!</strong>
</p><p>All breath rushed out of Gin, because – oh dear god of the Grand Izumo Shrine! That right there was a <em>MARRIAGE PROPOSAL.</em> Her own Takeshi chose similar wording, once their fathers had talked things through, saying he would like to eat her miso soup every day*!</p><p>And Master Nightwing who fitted in so seamlessly with the ninja Bat Clan of Hida, but turned down every single person asking him to be their lover…!</p><p>
  <strong>He wasn’t turning this monk down. </strong>
</p><p>There was a squeal rising deep in Gin’s chest and the insides of her head felt like they were turning liquid, ready to leak out of her ears. </p><p>“Please, excuse me,” she muttered under her breath with a deep bow before quickly leaving the house, squeezing the tray so hard her fingers turned white.</p><p>That wasn’t her average foreign Bat-related drama, bringing flavour to otherwise monotone life of a small, remote village, no. That… That was huge.</p><p>Gin had to talk with Lord Eian as soon as possible.</p><p>(Takeshi could wait for his onigiri a bit longer.)</p><p>*</p><p>“But anyway, I have been thinking -”</p><p>Jason grinned. “That couldn’t have been good for you, Dickhead.”</p><p>For a split second, he thought Dick would throw his half-eaten rice ball at him, but instead, he gave Jason one of his gentlest smiles, so at odds with the following remark of, “how about you go screw yourself?”</p><p><em>Only if you’d be so kind to help</em>, was what he wanted to say in response, and maybe there was a different Jason in an alternative universe somewhere out there who was smooth and confident enough to deliver that line, and not sound like a douchebag while doing it. Being as he was, though, he chose a safer option of wolfing down the last of his tofu, then answering with a lame, “so you’ve been thinking?”</p><p>Pathetic. </p><p>Dick raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn’t comment on his lacklustre response. Munching on his rice ball, he fetched a few scrolls from another room, then spread them on the floor between them.</p><p>“The Bat Clan has been nothing but helpful, so I thought we should give back a little. And it just so happened that I might have stumbled on a bit of a case.”</p><p>Now it was Jason’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “A case? Here?”</p><p>“As a matter of fact, yes,” Dick said, curling his lips in a playful smirk. “A case. Here.” A slight crease appeared between his brows. “Not <em>here</em> here, but two valleys away, closer to the town that’s being built by the Takayama Castle.” He pointed to the lone household drawn on the map of the region. “This residence belongs to a famous calligrapher who apparently used to serve at the emperor’s court. He is also Eian’s cousin.”</p><p>So, a cousin of the lord of the Bat clan. Jason was under the impression that the whole family was in the ninja business. “What about him?”</p><p>“A month ago, early in the morning, his servants noticed fresh footprints around the house, especially in those spots.” Dick pulled out crudely drawn blueprints of the building and tapped his finger on all the possible points of entrance; one of them was leading straight into the drawing-room. “They followed the footprints to a stream flowing on the other side of this grove,” he pointed to the map again, “but that’s where the trail went cold.”</p><p>“And they didn’t see or hear anything the night before?” Jason asked, feeling curious despite himself.</p><p>“It was a new moon that night, so no, no one saw a thing. Also, the calligrapher was entertaining a guest, so servants were busy attending them.</p><p>“Anyway, they concluded it was a work of the supernatural and that’s exactly what the calligrapher wrote Eian in a letter. However, when <em>I</em> went there to check the premises -”</p><p>Jason snorted. Of course their golden boy went snooping.</p><p>Dick punched him on the arm. “- I found this.” He opened his palm with a flourish and held it up for Jason to see.</p><p>“Dickie. Dearest.” He said after a bid of silence, giving his predecessor the same exact words and attitude he got whenever Dick thought he was speaking nonsense, most likely seconds away from losing it. “It's a piece of rock.” Finely polished and hung on string, but a piece of rock nonetheless.</p><p>“Wow, you don't say,” Dick deadpanned, distinctly unimpressed. “Thank you for clearing that up.”</p><p>His face split with a grin. “Always the pleasure.”</p><p>Dick answered with a grin of his own. “What eluded your fine observation skills, though,” he said, putting on an air of superiority, “is the fact it’s not just your regular rock. It’s gneiss.”</p><p>Jason slid his gaze back to the rock resting on his palm. “…Good for it, I guess?”</p><p>Dick looked this close to rolling his eyes in exasperation. “It can be found only in two places in the country. One is the remote archipelago on the Sea of Japan,” he dug up an oddly disproportional map of the country and pointed to a group of four islands, “another is here, in Hida. Coincidently, exactly where the rival clan’s <em>supposedly</em> hidden village is located. And there’s a shrine in there, rumoured to make its lucky charms with gneiss.”</p><p>“So you’re saying,” Jason decided to sum it all up, “that a rival clan of surprisingly sloppy ninja,” properly trained ones wouldn’t stomp all over the place, after all, “is trying to enact revenge by going after an old calligrapher? Because you found a piece of rock?”</p><p>“Well, first of all, I said a <em>rival clan</em>, not a <em>rival <strong>ninja</strong> clan</em>,” Dick said with an infuriating little smirk. “They were once a semi-powerful samurai family but lost much of their power and influence when their head of the clan was assassinated by Eian’s grandfather. There’s a rumour going around that with everything that is happening now,” meaning, with Gotham’s criminals (and Deathstroke) running rampant, “they intend to give up their samurai status altogether and perfect their craft in metallurgy.”</p><p>“And how does a calligrapher factor in all of this?” Jason asked, doubtfully.</p><p>“He owns a scroll depicting the secrets of Bat Clan’s metallurgical techniques. It was a part of his mother’s dowry. It’s a bit of an open secret in this region.” Dick added the last part, seeing him frown.</p><p>To be perfectly honest, Jason thought it all sounded rather far-fetched. But Dick seemed very enthusiastic about it, so he kept his opinion to himself and instead asked, “how do you even know all this stuff?”</p><p>Dick shrugged. “Make nice with the locals and they will tell you things.”</p><p>And just <em>how nice</em> did he play with the locals, Jason wondered, keenly aware it made him sound like a jealous boyfriend when he was neither a boyfriend nor… Oh, who was he kidding, of course he was jealous, had always been fucking jealous of the attention Dick gave others and not him. But that was his bullshit to deal with; there was no need to spring it on the golden boy.</p><p>“So what do you wanna do about it?” He eventually asked, hoping his eyes hadn’t flashed green.</p><p>Dick smiled and the brightness of that smile in combination with the golden hue of his skin made him look like a human ray of sunshine. “My gut tells me a month ago it was just recon. But tomorrow, when it’s a new moon again, they might attack for real. And since it’s just the two of us,” he leaned in closer, “and it’s been ages since we last worked on a case together, I was hoping you would head out to the calligrapher’s with me tomorrow. You know, to keep watch. Just in case.”</p><p>“I don’t know…” Should they stick their noses in this <em>clan rivalry</em>? Hadn’t Gotham’s finest (and Deathstroke) messed with history enough already? Should he and Dick really add to that by meddling with affairs that were so very much <strong>not</strong> their business?</p><p>“Come on, Jay, it'll be fun!”</p><p>Yeah, he somehow doubted that. Last time Dickie said a mission would be <em>fun</em>, Jason ended up fighting his way out of Kai Province with an army of samurai armour-wearing penguins led by Bane in a sumo wrestler inspired-getup hot on his heels. Now, Jason as a Gotham citizen born and bred had a way higher tolerance towards everything weird and fucked-up than your average male American in his twenties, but even for him that was a bit too much.</p><p>“Please?” Dick leaned in even closer. Jason could smell the fresh scent of his skin and fuck, his eyes were so very blue. “I miss working on cases with you. And I missed <em>you</em>.” Dick said in a small voice, biting his lower lip.</p><p>…Yeah sure, play with Jason’s heartstrings, why wouldn’t you? But then again, thinking back to how happy Dickie was to see him on the practice grounds, he couldn’t really accuse him of being insincere.</p><p>And when those baby blues were looking up at him like that, Jason was a weak, weak man.</p><p>“Fine,” he gave in with a sigh. There went his plans for peaceful relaxation and having Dick just to himself. “Tomorrow, you said?”</p>
<hr/><p>Lord Eian, ninth in the line of descent and head of the Bat Ninja Clan, listened to the reports with furrowed brows. </p><p>He took a careful sip of a drink made with powdered tea leaves, a wondrous plant from across the sea that calmed both mind and body. He swirled the thick liquid in his mouth, relishing in its rich, bitter taste, as he carefully considered. </p><p>Cherry trees had bloomed and shed their blossoms, spring giving way to usher in early summer, as it always had in this land, blessed with four seasons. Now, in the height of the rice planting season, nobody took strolls to admire pale pink flowers, for it was time to work the paddy fields. That was how things were and so these ancient rules were to be obeyed.</p><p>…But were foreign lands similarly blessed with four seasons? Who knew. Eian didn’t. How could he, when for all he did know, the travellers from over the seas and time might have never even eaten white rice and held chopsticks before in their lives. The rules of their land, so many <em>ri</em> and sexagenary circles away, were a mystery to him. In here, it was normal for a warrior or ninja to take a male lover (and many, in fact, yearned for Master Nightwing’s embrace). It was kept discreet and had nothing to do with marriage.</p><p>But maybe it was different for their Bat brethren. Maybe marriage was supposed to happen, even between male lovers. (And maybe Eian himself should have seen that coming, since he had happened across terribly flustered Master Nightwing, reading <em>just something that Red Hood had written</em> few months ago.)</p><p>Eian took another sip of his drink. The true problem here was something else, though. It was the fact that he really shouldn’t be asked to either give or refuse Master Red Hood and Master Nightwing his blessing, as he wasn’t a head of <em>their</em> clan. But unfortunately, the mighty Bat foretold in the ancient prophecies of his people had yet to arrive in this land.</p><p>Maybe Eian ought to ask for advice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*It’s my headcanon that although Gotham Crew (and Deathstroke) are somehow able to understand the Japanese language used back in 16th century, they lack the knowledge of idioms and nuances certain words hold. To indicate that (and not have Jay speaking in broken English), the OCs are sometimes saying a direct translation of Japanese phrases.</p><p>1. “Nitarō, the last person who tried to win his affection, cried for days when he had been denied his <span class="u">embrace</span>*.”<br/>In this context, the verb that means "to embrace, to hold in the arms” works as an euphemism for <i>sexual intercourse</i>.</p><p>2. “He could <span class="u">read the air</span>* just as well as Gin herself could (…)”.<br/>Literal translations of the phrase <i>kūki-wo yomu</i> (空気を読む). For the sake of keeping this short, I would compare it to the English <i>read the room</i>.</p><p>3. “Her own Takeshi chose similar wording, once their fathers had talked things through, saying <span class="u">he would like to eat her miso soup every day</span>*!”<br/>It’s legit if an old-fashioned way to propose.</p><p>Explanations for all the references I made to Japanese culture are available <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/post/628976673830944768/cultural-references-in-they-are-out-there-saying">here</a> 😊.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They hit the road the next day, bright and early. </p><p>Villagers were already up and about in the paddy fields, getting ready for another hard day of work. They stole curious-cum-enamoured glances at Nightwing, who cheerfully greeted everyone, and wary looks at Red Hood – who did not greet anyone, cheerfully or otherwise. But to be fair, Jason was hardly a social butterfly on a good day which <em>that</em> day wasn’t shaping up to be. Not when he was startled awake way before the crack of dawn from a pleasurable dream, starring himself and the golden boy in a passionate lip lock on a rooftop in Gotham, to the unforgiving reality of no Dick, no kissing, no Gotham, and a giant centipede climbing up his arm.</p><p>His mood was thus less than jovial as he walked down the beaten path with Dick (and his kissable lips) by his side, nervous glances like pinpricks on the back of his neck, conversations growing hushed as he passed by. But while the eyes averted the second he turned his head, the talks never ceased. Like a low-lying fog, a buzz of whispers settled over the paddy fields with bits of <em>with Master Nightwing?!</em>, pieces of <em>does Lord Eian know?</em>, scandalised <em>but isn’t he a monk?</em>, and surprisingly sassy<em> a demon more likely</em>.</p><p>At the last one, Jason could not help but roll his eyes in exasperation. While he had been called many things in his life – and talked shit about to – a <em>blood-bathing demon</em> sure was a first. And honestly, if anyone deserved that title, it would be their resident<em> Al Ghul</em>. For all Jason knew, the little gremlin might even be flattered.</p><p>Soon, rice fields were left behind and the path narrowed as it led uphill. Jason suggested Dick take the lead since he already knew the way <strike>and he wanted to stare at his firm butt</strike>. Fortunately, the trek wasn’t as long as he feared. Sun was still climbing up the sky when they reached the calligrapher’s home.</p>
<hr/><p>Before Dick could even raise his hand to knock, the door slid open and a harried-looking servant jumped out of the house. Bending almost in half in a series of polite bows, he shepherded them to a separate guest entrance and ushered them straight inside the drawing-room. There, another servant – a young girl, already waiting for them bent in a deep bow – firmly guided them to a low table and two <em>zabuton</em> pillows laid out for them. Out of nowhere appeared two cups of tea and the servant, bowing yet again, made herself scarce. </p><p>“Were they expecting us…?” Jason asked, a bit stunned at the no-nonsense welcome.</p><p>“…I guess?” Dick shrugged and made himself comfortable, sitting on his heels. Jason tried as well, but with towering height and bulk, every single piece of furniture made in this land was at least three times too small for him. He barely managed to fit his legs under the table. </p><p>He took a moment to look around. For essentially a hermitage, the calligrapher’s residence sure was quite lavish. Not in the in-your-face kind of way Joker seemed to enjoy – the fucker covered the inner walls of his castle with golden leaves from Kaga Province – but evident in small details like the intricate woodwork of the transom over the sliding doors and paper screens. As he turned his head, a decorative scroll hanging in the tokonoma alcove caught his attention. It featured a perfect circle drawn in blank ink with one stroke of a brush, just an inch shy of being closed.</p><p>“The Zen Circle,” an elderly man said as he stepped inside the room. He had a genial smile on his face, but his eyes were sharp. “Nothing else conveys the beauty of imperfection as profoundly, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked Jason.</p><p>…Another inconvenience that came with his cover as a Buddhist monk – other than no meat rule – was that people expected him to know things and have an opinion on them when Jason didn’t know shit. He wasn’t going to admit it, though. “Indeed.”</p><p>With the corner of his eye, he saw Nightwing politely cover a snort with a small cough. </p><p>
  <em>What a Dickhead.</em>
</p><p>“Master Red Hood, I presume?” The calligrapher inquired, sitting down as well. His gaze slid down to Jason’s belt. “I see your pilgrimage brought you to the Izumo Province.” He casually remarked, pointing at the <em>temple keepsake</em> from Timbo.</p><p>Jason frowned. For a prop that was supposed to divert suspicion, it gathered an awful lot of attention.</p><p>“And Master Nightwing!” He turned to Dick. “An honour and pleasure to meet you again,” his sharp eyes lost some of their focus as his face reddened, and Jason physically could not help rolling his eyes, because fucking Nightwing Effect.</p><p>“We apologise for coming here unannounced…” Dick smiled disarmingly, and the calligrapher’s cheeks grew even hotter, and Jason kinda hated seeing it all happen in real-time. Or you know, at all. At least this guy seemed unlikely to act on whatever perverted thoughts the curl of Dickie’s lips were giving him. Small mercies, Jason supposed.</p><p>“No, no, it’s quite alright,” the man was quick to reassure. "I received a letter from my cousin, first thing in the morning. He mentioned that the two of you…” He glanced at Jason, then the trinket by his belt. “…Believe the ogre might bother me again tonight.”</p><p>“Ogre?” Dick’s voice betrayed his surprise. “Last time you told me it was something else.”</p><p>“Well, at first we believed it was a <em>kappa</em> up to some mischief.”</p><p>“A water demon?” Jason asked dubiously. “The one that really likes cucumbers?” He added, thinking back to the few folk tales he had heard during his recon missions. They often mentioned these supernatural beings that dwelled in the bodies of water, still or running.</p><p>And Dickie did say the trail went cold by the stream.</p><p>The calligrapher nodded. “We left a few cucumbers by the river, but after three days they were still laying there, untouched. So if it wasn’t a <em>kappa</em>, then I guess it could have only been an ogre.” He sighed. “I was wondering if I should ask my friend to perform an exorcism tonight, just in case.”</p><p>“Oh, you have a guest coming over?” Dick politely inquired. “Could it be the same person you were entertaining last new moon?” He picked up his teacup and took a sip.</p><p>“Ah, yes. My friend, a monk in the Tenshōji Temple, visits me on every new moon. We write <em>haikai-no renga</em> together.”</p><p>“<em>Haikai-no</em> what now?” Jason hissed under his breath, turning his head slightly towards his companion.</p><p>“It’s linked verse poetry,” Dick whispered back, hiding his lips from the view behind the rim of his teacup. Out loud he said, “oh, there’s no need for that.” He set his teacup down and smiled at the calligrapher so dazzlingly, his blush came back with vengeance.</p><p>Jason’s lips thinned. He didn’t appreciate Dickie smiling like that at anyone but him.</p><p>“Red Hood and I can catch this ogre for you.”</p><p>Their host visibly perked up at the idea. “That would be wonderful.” He looked at Jason and maybe he somehow picked up on his displeasure as one glance at the dark glare lurking behind the red basket hat chased the blush away from his face. His eyes dropped to his belt again.</p><p>Without meaning too, or giving it any conscious thought for that matter, Jason shifted closer to Dick.</p><p>It wasn’t that he was jealous of the old man – pfft, of course not – but all the attention their host was receiving had Jason growing green with envy, eyes included. Which was stupid and Jason knew that – friendly and borderline coquettish was just the way the golden boy was with anyone, sometimes even the criminals he was beating up. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly feeling gnawing at his heart.</p><p>No-one ever said that emotions and common sense had to go hand in hand.</p><p>“But I worry the ogre might be spooked and not show itself, should it notice anything too out of the ordinary,” Dick went on, blissfully ignorant to the non-verbal exchange happening right in front of him and the emotional turmoil beside him in the form of one Jason Peter Todd. “Perhaps we should blend in a bit more as we wait.” There was that lilt in his voice that meant he was cooking up a scheme in that pretty head of his. It would instantly put Jason on edge, had he not been too busy squashing an irrational bout of jealousy to properly pay attention.</p><p>“What do you mean?” The calligrapher asked, now frowning at the drastically decreased space between his guests.</p><p>Unnoticed by the occupants of the room, the servant girl from before stepped inside, holding a steaming cup of tea, most likely meant for her master.</p><p>“To ensure the ogre won’t notice that we are…ah, <em>laying a trap</em>, I should probably pose as one of your servants.” Dick explained, then looked up at Jason. “While Red Hood writes linked verse poetry with you and your friend.”</p><p>The mention of his name jerked him back to the present. The rest of that sentence stirred a complex mix of rage and embarrassment deep within him, and set in on fire.</p><p>The calligrapher hummed, rubbing his chin. “I suppose it makes sense.”</p><p>…Like fuck it did!</p><p>“If it helps you catch the -”</p><p>“Nightwing.” Jason hissed, cutting into the calligrapher’s speech. “Can we talk for a second?” </p><p>“Sure thing, Hood!” He easily agreed. “If you’d excuse us,” he smiled at the calligrapher before he turned in his seat to face Jason. “What’s up?”</p><p>“Don’t you <em>what’s up</em> me, you Dickhead, the actual fuck WRITING POETRY,” he spat out in one furious whisper. </p><p>Dick blinked at him, a picture of honest surprise of the confused kind. “Why are you so upset? I thought you liked poetry.”</p><p>Yeah, Jason did like poetry, and he liked it a lot, but it was a bit of a sore point for him – mostly due to all the Gotham villains (and quite a few members of the Cape community too) turning his fondness of the written word into a fucking punchline. He was so sick and tired of taking shit from (and returning the favour by beating the crap out of) those uncultured scumbags who thought that a big guy like him reading W. B. Yeats was the most hilarious thing ever.</p><p>“Come on, Jay.” Dick leaned in closer, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’ve seen you back in the hidden village, muttering to yourself and counting syllables on your fingers,” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.</p><p>Shit, <em>he knew about it?!</em></p><p>With a trickle of dread, Jason hoped to any divine being out there willing to lend an ear, <em>that</em> was all Dickie knew about, for haiku was not the only genre he had ever dabbled in while here. He might or might have not composed quite a few works of the love poem variety too, all of which were inspired by and dedicated to a certain human ray of sunshine. They were also kinda shitty, if he were to be brutally honest with himself, because while Jason <em>was</em> pining, he was no Petrarch and Dickie was for sure way prettier than Laura.</p><p>Should anyone, especially the golden boy himself, ever find out about those poems, Jason would die and no Lazarus Pit would ever bring him back.</p><p>“Hey,” Dick whispered. He appeared to be worried – and to be fair, Jason had never freaked out and turned into stone on him before. Dick carefully laid a hand on his knee; the warmth of his touch was grounding. “If the rival clan is sending a group of people, they might launch an attack in a few places. One of us should stick close to the host.”</p><p>Jason thought he heard a shocked gasp accompanied by a startled squeak and a sound of a small object hitting the floor – but he couldn’t possibly care less when Dick was leaning in even closer and biting his lower lip.</p><p>(Jason wished he was bold enough to run his thumb over in or make it yield to his kiss.)</p><p>“And while I can keep an eye on the premises and defend the servants, I can’t for the life of me write anything sensible in seventeen syllables or less. But you can and you seem to enjoy it, and I honestly thought this could cheer you up a little. You could use that; I know you’re beyond fed up being stuck in feudal Japan of all places, we all are.” He smiled again, bright and heartfelt, <em>and just for Jason</em>. “Just like I know that working with you on anything at least resembling a case is cheering <em>me</em> up.”</p><p>Jason believed it was Donna who once said about Nightwing, <em>who wouldn’t fall in love with that smile</em>, or something along those lines. And indeed – who wouldn’t.</p><p>
  <strike>Because Jason would and had.</strike>
</p><p>“Yeah,” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He felt very stupid for blowing a fuse like that and kind of awestruck, and as a result, he had no idea what to do with himself, so for starters, he cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He also wished he was able to say something, anything a tad more eloquent than that. “Yeah, we might as well enjoy ourselves, before we go back to…the usual stuff,” he finished lamely, stupidly glad the basket hat hid his blush. He cleared his throat again. “Once we get out of this shithole and back to Gotham, we should work on more cases together.”</p><p>*</p><p>The calligrapher gasped in shock. </p><p>The servant girl let out a scandalised squeak and one of the teacups slid from her fingers, spilling the tea on the tatami mats. </p><p>Neither of them could believe what they were witnessing. A pair of lovers, because there was no doubt in their minds that was exactly what they were to each other, being so forward with their affection, right then and there, in polite company, without a speck of shame, and one of them may or may not be<em> a monk</em> yet had not discarded his earthly desires, the indignation…!</p><p>He was still reeling from the scandalised shock and the servant was busy patting the tatami mats dry when caught whips of conversation.</p><p>
  <em>“…you’re beyond fed up being…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“…enjoy ourselves, before we go…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Once we get out of this shithole and back to Gotham, we should work on more cases together.”</em>
</p><p>The calligrapher and the servant shared a look.</p><p>“The language of the future is so confusing,” the girl offhandedly remarked. “Whatever could they possibly mean by that?” </p><p>What indeed. Even the calligrapher, well-versed as he was in the Chinese classics, Buddhist sutras, and Japanese poetry, had no clue what a <em>shithole</em> or a <em>gotham</em> was, and neither did he know what a <em>case</em> was supposed to mean. He tried to match what little he understood from their words with any phrase he was familiar with, leaning heavily on the context and with his cousin’s letter fresh in mind. Two lovers, an <em>ofuda</em> from the Grand Shrine of Izumo, no head of the clan to give them their blessing…</p><p>The calligrapher gasped yet again, this time in terror when a realisation struck him. In a shaky whisper, he recited, “when we depart from this world, I wish to be reborn with you on the same lotus flower in the Pure Land.”</p><p>The servant put a hand to her mouth in shock, her face rapidly palling. </p><p>The conclusion was obvious. Tonight, after the poetry meeting, the monk and ninja disciple from across the time, unable to be together in life, would join together in death.</p><p>By committing lovers’ suicide.</p><p>“I need to urgently contact my cousin.”</p>
<hr/><p>The sun made its way down to the western horizon, painting the skies orange and red, then deeper purple, as afternoon turned into evening and evening melted into the night. Last traces of sunlight gone, innumerable stars flickered to life all the brighter when the moon chose to hide its face.</p><p>In the lone household lost in the mountains of Hida, a foreign-looking servant joked with his co-workers as they brought the paper-covered <em>andon</em> lamps. The drawing-room was awash in their warm, flickering light when the host led his two guests inside. The servant might have dared to steal a glance at one of them, bowing deeply in respectful greeting, and the guest that caught his interest followed him with his curiously coloured eyes when he was hurrying outside. Meanwhile, three steaming teacups found their way on the tatami mats, within easy reach of each occupant of the room, then finally, the door was slid closed.</p><p>The time had come to compose thirty-six verses of <em>haikai-no renga</em>.</p><p>*</p><p>There were three of them gathered in the drawing-room.</p><p>There was the host – the calligrapher. By virtue of his profession, apart from contributing his verses, he took upon himself the task of preserving their literary efforts for future generations. He was sitting by the low writing table with a brush ready in his hand, an inkstone and a scroll carefully laid down on the tabletop before him. Nightwing had told him to act natural as to not <em>spook the ogre</em>, so of course, the man was anything but. He kept fidgeting in his seat and dabbing his sweaty face with a handkerchief, almost compulsively so, while stealing nervous glances at Red Hood. Jason thought this level of agitation was an absolute overkill of a reaction, and he couldn’t help but feel that something was <em>off</em> about the man that had been very much <em>on</em> during their little talk in the late morning. The way his eyes grew misty whenever they fell upon Dick, while definitely an improvement from the smitten blush of before, only intensified that inkling in the back of Jason’s mind.</p><p>Then, there was the friend of the host – the actual Buddhist monk with a head shaved bald, prayer beads wrapped around his wrist and a confused look on his face. He alternated between staring worriedly at the calligrapher and stealing wary glances at Red Hood. Although he did introduce himself, Jason didn’t quite catch his name and felt too awkward to ask what it was again.</p><p>Last but not least, there was the recipient of all the nervousness and wariness in the room – Red Hood himself, joining in on this vintage poetry slam because he was a weak, weak man, easily reduced to a puddle of longing mixed with desire and spiked with an unhealthy dose of embarrassment. He was sitting on his designated <em>zabuton</em> pillow, feeling uncomfortably exposed without his basket hat on. Still, he took it off because Dickie pointed out that fucking <em>bathed in the blood</em> rumours made its red colour too iconic by now, and like a nagging wife wouldn’t let him be until Jason caved in. He refused to remove his mask, though, the one he wore underneath that hid only the bottom half of his face, and nothing short of the golden boy offering a hot make-out session would make him budge on this point. He kinda wished he had thought to bring a spare domino mask with him, if only because the heterochromia of his eyes was visibly freaking his companions out.</p><p>The calligrapher cleared his throat. “We have one more guest joining us tonight.” He whipped his forehead. “The esteemed, wandering monk who goes by the name of Red Hood.”</p><p>The monk gasped. “Master Red Hood?” He worried one of the beads wrapped around his wrist in what appeared to be a nervous tick. “The one who -?”</p><p>If Jason had to listen to the bullshit rumour one more time, he would fucking lose it. It was thus in the best interest of everyone present on the premises that he cut into the monk’s words, saying “the one and only.”</p><p>*</p><p>The monk gasped.</p><p>He had a terrible, sinking suspicion the second he stepped into the room, but could this beast of a man really be… “Master Red Hood?” He asked weakly, touching the prayer beads on his wrist. </p><p>There were some speculations whether Red Hood was, in fact, a follower of the Fuke Sect of Zen Buddhism or not, fuelled by the fact that nobody has ever heard him play a flute (which, on the side note, he didn’t have on him even now). His rise to infamy, however, put all those speculations to rest as each word of his deeds – or should he say misdeeds – made it clear he was no monk and doubtfully even human. Even the warrior monks from Mount Hiei, notorious to the point one powerful emperor of the past listed them together with a roll of a dice and the waters in the Kamo River as things he had no control over – even they cried tears of horror at the mere mention of Red Hood’s name and swore he was a depraved soul turned into a <em>demon</em>. Now, sitting in the shadow of his towering frame, looking at the green ring around his pupils fading into the blue on the edge of his irises, the simple monk of the Tenshōji Temple was inclined to agree.</p><p>He thinly swallowed. “The one who -?”</p><p>…The one whose name put fear into the hearts of men, from the capital all the way to the north-east frontier of this land? The one whom mothers would call upon to frighten misbehaving children into obedience – <em>you will do as I say, or <strong>Red Hood</strong> will come and take you away</em>?!</p><p>The demon turned his unreal eyes at him. “The one and only.”</p><p>The monk swore he felt half his soul leave his body. Barely holding in a terrified squeal, he nervously rolled the beads between his fingers, invoking the name of Buddha Amida.</p><p>Why, oh <em>why</em> was the demon in here?! What ill-fortune brought him to Hida? What calamity did he seek to unleash upon this region? Curse their rice fields barren? Turn their forests into ashes? Lay carnage upon their villages?</p><p>
  <strike>(Feast on human flesh…?!)</strike>
</p><p>And what was his friend thinking inviting such evil into his home?! Even though the news from outside Hida rarely reached him in his lone household lost in the mountains and forests, by now <em>he really ought to know just who Red Hood was</em>!</p><p>So preoccupied the monk was that he completely missed the opening verse – composed by the demon himself no less! – and the following one, contributed by his friend. Only when his name was called and Red Hood raised his eyebrows at him did he realize it was his turn.</p><p>Well, no time like the present to discover was vile intend the demon held in his blackened heart. Squeezing the prayer beads, he bravely looked the evil in the two-coloured eye. Not caring at all what the verses before had said, he boldly recited,</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Rises the full moon</p>
  <p>Wandering from far-off lands</p>
  <p>What does it look for?</p>
</blockquote><p>He had to know what the demon was after.</p><p>*</p><p>So maybe Jason should have let the monk say his piece after all, as it seemed that the <em>blood bathing</em> thing was barely scratching the surface of whatever bullshit was being told about Red Hood out there which he just kinda confirmed was all true. Now the poor guy looked about ready to go into cardiac arrest whenever he so much as moved a single muscle and the mute terror he was frozen in was, quite frankly, starting to freak Jason out.</p><p>Fucking hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.</p><p>When the monk finally did unfreeze, he levelled him with a truly impressive glare (in terms of expressing his disdain, their little gremlin could learn much from this guy) and supposing that Jason was <em>the full moon</em> in this equation, basically asked him what he was doing here.</p><p>Wasn’t that a loaded question.</p><p>Jason discretely counted syllables on his fingers as he considered. The short of it (being weak for Dickie) was way too embarrassing to admit and the long of it (so the Quake Engine misadventure) not exactly suited for a civilian knowledge.</p><p><em>Ah, to hell with it</em>, he decided and just went for the vague.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>All the travels have led it</p>
  <p>Back where its dream may come true</p>
</blockquote><p>…As in, upon completion of yet another recon, he dragged himself to Hida – where Dickie and the other <em>Bat brethren</em> were – hoping they would discover the way to put the Quake Engine together and get themselves the fuck out of here and back <em>home</em>.</p><p>(<em>As soon as the Old Bat shows his mug around this place for fuck’s sake he was so late to the party it stopped being fashionable half a year ago</em>, he wanted to add, but ran out of syllables.)</p><p>*</p><p>Act normal, they had said.</p><p>…<em>How</em> could he act normal when his forehead was sweaty and his favourite brush unwieldy between his shaky fingers? <em>How</em>, when three of thirty-six verses were already in ink drying on paper and his cousin Eian STILL WASN’T HERE?! Small mercy at least that the ogre wasn’t here either – except <em>who cared</em> about ogres when hosting a pair of <em>star-crossed lovers <strong>on the eve of their death</strong></em>!</p><p>There was no other way about it, the calligrapher firmly told himself, willing his poor, old heart, hammering in his chest, to calm down. He had to stall, so stall he shall, but for that, he needed his friend’s help. </p><p>Who failed to notice his attempts at gaining his attention – would probably fail to notice the Amida Buddha Triad themselves, should they miraculously appear! – so hung up was he on the fact that their companion for the evening was none other but Master Red Hood. He couldn’t possibly know about the time-travelling, ninja brethren part of his identity for that information was privy to the Bat Clan and those related by blood only, but whatever it was he had heard about their unexpected guest rendered him unresponsive, eyes wide in horror. And just when he needed him to be responsive, getting the hint and reading the air!</p><p>Oh, how the calligrapher lamented he didn’t get a chance to talk with the monk before this meeting started!</p><p>Master Red Hood said his next verse (fourth of thirty-six already, Kannon have mercy!) and it was so heart-wrenching, the calligrapher wiped not only his sweat by a stray tear too. There was no doubt in his mind the dream he had sought to fulfill was the permission to marry Master Nightwing – the permission he was not granted.</p><p>The calligrapher was swirling his brush in a stroke that committed the last words of that verse to the paper when the door soundlessly slid open and Master Nightwing, unable to stay away from his beloved for so long, slipped inside under pretence of bringing him a fresh cup of tea. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at his graceful form, his exotic features and a smile – the same smile that upon their first meeting, scarcely a moon ago, had unwittingly taught him (him, in his old age!) what the premonition of love* felt like.</p><p>He couldn’t bear the thought of Master Nightwing being in love that drove him to despair. He <em>would not</em> see him and Master Red Hood laying together in the cold embrace of death. Wiping his forehead, then discretely dabbing at his eyes, he steeled his resolve.</p><p>And pointedly cleared his throat.</p><p>That finally, <em>finally</em> prompted his friend to look at him. Confusion at Master Red Hood’s verse was written all over the monk’s face, but not to fear! The calligrapher had seventeen syllables at his disposal now, and a new scroll displayed in the tokonoma alcove with a proverb that stood for <em>tacit understanding</em>* would surely help foster the air of successful communication, both verbal and non-verbal.</p><p>But first thing first. “Master Red Hood pilgrimed to the GRAND SHRINE OF IZUMO to ask the god there for his blessings.”</p><p>The horror rounding his friend’s eyes abruptly turned into astonishment.</p><p>With that out of the way, he addressed the issue as directly as he dared.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Denied by the sun,</p>
  <p>On the same lotus flower</p>
  <p>Years to be reborn</p>
</blockquote><p>He feigned scratching his nose to point a finger at Master Nightwing and Master Red Hood, still whispering and intimately brushing their hands, to communicate just with <em>whom</em> the infamous wandering monk was planning to commit the lovers’ suicide.</p><p>His friend obediently turned his head to take in the pair of tragic lovers. His face burned bright red, but then, as if by magic, the colour bled away leaving him deadly pale.</p><p>*</p><p>The monk didn’t know what to do with himself nor his newly-gained knowledge.</p><p>In his mind, he simply <em>could not</em> reconcile the image (and the idea) of <strong><em>Red Hood</em></strong> with a humble worshipper of the god of marriage, who somehow managed to win the affections of that lovely creature the monk dared not look too closely at, lest it awoke his earthly desires.</p><p>Then, a new thought occurred to him and chilled him to the bone. His friend implied that denied permission to marry, Red Hood intended to commit lovers’ suicide.</p><p>…But what if the sight of his beloved plunging a knife into his stomach, golden skin turning pale as his life bled away, stroke the fire of resentment towards all those who had denied him marital happiness? What if hatred consumed him in his final moments and made him lay a curse upon them with his very last breath? It was known that such strong emotions when departing from this life had the power to anchor a soul to the world of the living and turn it wicked, hellbent on seeking vengeance.</p><p>He shuddered to think what devastation his wrath would wreck, should that come to pass. Nothing, <em>nothing</em> could keep them safe from his hatred, safe for maybe living their remaining day with every inch of skin covered with words of a Buddhist sutra at all times!</p><p>Something had to be done. What exactly, he currently had no idea, but a cup of tea at least ought to buy them all more time. <em>Drives away all the evil spirits, destroys the passions</em> – weren’t those and many others named virtues of that wondrous drink from across the sea? (Maybe even Red Hood’s beloved recognised the danger, seeing as he had just brought him a steaming cup of tea.)</p><p>The monk had to warn his friend and try reason with the demon while he had only fourteen syllables to work with.</p><p>Well then, he shall make every single one of them count.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Stays, the soul seeking vengeance;</p>
  <p>Maybe tea can quench its thirst?</p>
</blockquote><p>The first half of the verse he delivered looking at his friend. The second one he addressed to Red Hood directly, squeezing his prayer bead until his knuckles turned white.</p><p>*</p><p>“My gut was right,” Dick whispered with a triumphant smirk that did all sorts of things to Jason.</p><p>“You don’t say,” he deadpanned right back because there were no butterflies in his stomach, nope. Not even one.</p><p>Dick’s arm twitched but a cup of steaming hot tea he was holding in both his hands prevented him from laying that punch on Jason’s arm. He frowned slightly, then cocked his head to a side slightly, to discreetly point at the entrance and presumably the sloppy attackers lurking outside. “They’re here.”</p><p>With the corner of his eye, Jason checked on the calligrapher (misty-eyed again, what the fuck?) and the monk (who transcended to the whole new levels of freaked out). He leaned in towards the golden boy. “How many?” He whispered, accepting the proffered tea. Their fingers brushed.</p><p>Somewhere in the background, the calligrapher was saying something, but with Dickie so close and so lovely even in that drab worker’s clothes, he honestly couldn’t care less.</p><p>“Ten in the back, six for you in the front,” he answered. His blue eyes were shining with excitement at the prospect of imminent danger, ever the adrenaline junkie. Some may call it a character flaw, but to Jason, it was a glorious trait that made him a little less perfect and a little more human, and by <em>human</em>, he meant <em>within his reach</em>.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Outside, a dry tree branch snapped.</p><p>“Keep sharp,” Dick gathered his tray and in a graceful motion got back on his feet. Jason watched him go across the room, then politely bow and disappear behind the sliding door.</p><p>Both the calligrapher and the monk were staring at him expectantly.</p><p>…Oh shit, was it his turn again? Jason panicked a bit, thinking fast while feeling for his sweet, antique Portuguese pistols – though in here they were the state-of-the-art, freshly imported from Europe.</p><p>The monk was giving him an evil eye again which meant he probably composed another passive-aggressive verse with Jason in mind. He wasn’t really paying any attention, but he thought he caught something about <em>tea</em> and <em>being thirsty</em>, and with the context of Dickie of bringing him another cup of tea to join the one he hadn’t yet touched, it seemed like he was encouraging him to…drink?</p><p>Yeah right, Jason scoffed at himself.</p><p>Casually putting his hands behind his back, each holding a pistol, Jason blurted out the first thing that came to his mind and seemed vague yet clever enough.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yet, there is a thirst</p>
  <p>Not even the mighty tea</p>
  <p>Has power to quench</p>
</blockquote><p>*</p><p>The monk gasped, his blood turning to ice. It was even worse than he feared, for Red Hood himself admitted out loud that his soul was corrupted with earthly desires beyond any redemption.</p><p>He squeezed his prayer beads but no, there was no hope for them. </p><p>He flinched when Red Hood shifted in his seat, felt goosebumps rise on his forearms when those two-coloured eyes urgently looked around the room to finally rest right on his face.</p><p>“Esteemed Monk?” Red Hood asked.</p><p>He wanted to respond with a polite <em>yes?</em>, he really did, but choked up with fear he couldn’t possibly squeeze out anything more than a terrified squeal. </p><p>Red Hood narrowed his eyes. “Duck.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In haikai-no renga seventeen-syllable verses (5-7-5) alternative with fourteen-syllable ones (7-7).</p><p>*"(...) had unwittingly taught him (him, in his old age!) what the <span class="u">premonition of love*</span> felt like."<br/>It's not a love at first sight but a feeling, upon the first meeting someone, that you will fall for them in the future. (恋の予感; <i>koi no yokan</i>)<br/>*In case anyone is interested, this proverb (以心伝心; <i>ishin denshin</i>) can also be translated as "on the same wavelength"😊.</p><p>Explanations on all the references I made to Japanese culture are available <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/post/628976673830944768/cultural-references-in-they-are-out-there-saying">here</a> 😊.</p><p>❤️❤️❤️ for anyone who spots a reference to Italian literature!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, when asked to describe what had happened next, the monk would say – and the calligrapher would vigorously nod his agreement – that they had glimpsed the eight great hells.</p><p>No sooner had the monk ducked than a metal star whispered, cutting through the air. The sight of it stuck into the wall behind him and the pull of muscles in his neck as he twisted to gape at it, he would remember until his dying day.</p><p>The thud of the sliding doors being kicked off their tracks drowned out the startled yelp of the calligrapher, but not his terrified scream at the dark-clad humanoid silhouettes stepping out of the darkness. Fearful, he shielded his head with his hands, trading situational awareness for the bliss of ignorance, but the monk looked through his fingers at Red Hood rising to his full, monstrous height, Portuguese contraption in each hand.</p><p>What followed was the ear-shattering noise neither the calligrapher nor the monk had ever heard before. They were both coughing as the air was filled with grey smoke smelling of sulphur – and the monk snapped his eyes shut, unable to watch any longer. Curled into himself on the tatami mat, he could feel the sensations of thundering footsteps, running away for their lives – to be hunted down and sent crashing to the floor. He could hear a slap of fist hitting flesh, a sickening crunch of bones breaking. He thought he had heard a tearful plea for mercy; he was sure he had caught the answering snort of<em> demons have no mercy</em> or something along those lines.</p><p>Then, there was an eerie silence. They both vividly remembered how they cautiously raised their head to see Red Hood standing over the bodies of felled enemies, his huge form partly veiled by the billowing smoke. His eyes were completely <em>green</em> and shining with an unholy light.</p><p>They remembered the cold dread chilling them to the bone when those hellish eyes fell upon them.</p><p>The monk swore he saw his whole life flashing before his horrified eyes, but the calligrapher sat frozen, unable to bat an eyelid. He saw Master Nightwing rush into the drawing-room and would later swear that as soon as Red Hood caught the sight of his lover, green bled away from his eyes and the demon turned back into a human.</p><p>*</p><p>What actually happened was nowhere near as dramatic and over before it even properly started.</p><p>Jason immediately noticed the door sliding open just a smidge to reveal a flash of metal – an assailant was taking an aim. He turned his head to check the trajectory and yup, that piece was meant for the monk.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes. While he was by no means squeamish about offing a wide selection of scumbags the underworld had to offer, taking out an innocent old man was a no-no even in his books.</p><p>Sorry, not sorry, fuckers, assassination won’t be happening.</p><p>“Esteemed monk,” he called and the man in question almost passed out in fright.</p><p>(Like seriously, what shit were people saying out there about him?!)</p><p>“Duck.”</p><p>He was on his feet whipping his guns out before the metal star hit the wall. Both the monk and the calligrapher were taking cover by the tokonoma alcove behind his back. Two paper-covered lanterns with a <em>live flame</em> inside them were there too. Better not to knock them over, he supposed.</p><p>Okay then, he nodded to himself. Mission objective: deal with the attackers and not turn this <em>wooden</em> building into a fucking pyre.</p><p>Jason grinned at the sweet rush of adrenaline in his veins. <em>Piece of cake</em>.</p><p>Kicking in the sliding doors would have been intimidating, had Jason not been pulling similar shit every other day but with brick walls. The attackers poured inside, stomping over the mess of splinters and torn paper; Jason greeted them with a manic grin and a closed-up look at barrels of his two guns.</p><p>“Good evening,” he said and pulled the triggers. His wheellock pistols puffed a cloud of smoke, and Jason thrilled at the smell of black powder filling the air.</p><p>Two bodies fell to the ground, moaning in pain.</p><p>Not wasting time to reload, he struck the third guy on the head with a handle of his gun. Fourth and fifth joined him, bleeding on the tatami mats, mere seconds later. The sixth one, now alone on the battlefield, stumbled over his feet and fell to the floor with a terrified squeak when Jason turned his eyes on him.</p><p>“N-no, p…please! Mercy!”</p><p>Jason fisted the front of his clothing and dragged him up to his eye level. “Mercy’s not available in your region,” he informed with a grin that had way too many teeth, then punched him on the face. Once he heard the satisfying crack of a broken nose, he dropped the guy back on the ground in a heap of tearful misery.</p><p>…And that would appear to be it if Jason wanted to keep this non-lethal. Which he did, as it wouldn’t do to make Dickie cross with him and endure his cold shoulder treatment for at least a month.</p><p>He took a deep breath, willing to calm the bloodlust still singing in his veins. Mission was accomplished, even if the lacklustre brawl left him rather disappointed.</p><p>Remembering the other occupants in the room, he turned around to check on them – and could not help an exasperated sigh at the way they were bulging their eyes at him. Just looking at their aghast faces he could already tell that by this time tomorrow there would be new, ridiculous rumours about him flying all over Hida, and in a few days probably outside of Hida too.</p><p>“Everything alright in here?” Dick asked as he walked into the room, dragging two black-clad figures. Behind him, very freaked out servants were carrying other assailants, some of them already bound.</p><p>Jason inhaled sharply, because the <em>blood</em> part of the <em>bloodlust</em> suddenly evaporated, and it wasn't murderous glee but plain old desire warming his face now, as he took Dickie in. His tousled hair. A touch of red painting his cheeks. That drab worker’s kimono sliding down one shoulder to reveal a sliver of golden skin usually hidden from sight.</p><p>…Damn, but what Jason wouldn’t do to see him like that in a very different context.</p><p>“All good,” he said, surprised himself at how gravelly his voice sounded. He cleared his throat.</p><p>“No casualties, I hope?” Dick looked over his shoulder at Jason, as he laid two attackers on the floor and gestured to the servants to do the same. His smile might have been dazzling, but his blue eyes were deadly serious.</p><p>“Nope.” He dug his nails into the flesh part of his palms. <em>Get your shit together, Todd</em>, he thought, <em><strike>plenty of time to lust after Dickie later</strike></em>.</p><p>Dick hummed, getting up to help a very shaken servant girl remove the sliding doors in between the rooms to make the place bigger. “We should probably search them. And question them, once they come to it.”</p><p>Jason cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can do that.” He picked up his pistols and put them back into their holsters. “But you should probably do the damage control.” He gestured at their host and his friend, both still shell-shocked.</p><p>Dick looked over his shoulder in the indicated direction. “Shoot!” He exclaimed, but before he rushed to their side, he came to Jason and put a hand on his arm. He craned his neck to look him straight in the eye; Jason didn’t want those baby blues to look away from him, ever. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish those linked verses,” Dick said, oddly earnest. He squeezed his arm, his touch lingering a tad longer than strictly necessary – but then it was gone, and Dickie was walking away to comfort the locals.</p><p>Jason stared after him, unsure of what that was about.</p><p>Shaking his head, he helped the servants tie up all the attackers. He took notice of the same floral pattern sewn into their clothes by the lapels and on the back of their black clothing; a quick search yielded a handful of identical lucky charms made with that stone – gneiss, Dickie said it was, didn’t he?</p><p>Decent detective work, golden boy.</p><p>He was about to go over to him and brainstorm what to do with over a dozen of attackers in various stages of unconsciousness and beat up, when a sound of horses’ hooves hitting the ground caught his attention, progressively growing louder as it neared.</p><p>“Hey, can you hear that?”</p><p>*</p><p>The head of the Bat Clan of Hida and a dozen of his men rode out through forested mountains and the darkness of the moonless night, in a literary sense racing against time.</p><p>The sun was already setting when a wheezing servant knocked on his door. Sipping on his afternoon tea, Eian was pleasantly surprised to receive a response from his cousin so soon, but that surprise morphed into a bone-chilling terror as soon as he opened the scroll. While the message it carried was certainly a cause for concern, it was the handwriting that had Eian calling for his armour and a horse, for the characters were uneven and the lines of strokes were shaky.</p><p>As if the hand that wielded the brush could not stop trembling.</p><p><em>Lovers’ suicide</em>, his cousin wrote in his letter. How could Eian not notice that their affection was burning so brightly Master Nightwing and Master Red Hood could not stand to be apart any longer? His cursed hesitancy drove them to this desperation, seeking escape from despair in death. Eian shuddered to think what he might see, should he not arrive in time to stop them.</p><p>He kicked the sides of his horse even harder, galloping at breakneck speed down the mountain and through the grove, jumping over a small stream somewhere on his way.</p><p>Trees thinned. Eian reined in his horse, slowing down from a gallop to a canter, and then to a trot. Finally, he reached a small clearing and the lone household nestled wherein. His cousin, followed by a Buddhist monk and a servant with a handheld <em>andon </em>lamp, was rushing outside to meet him – and Eian did a double-take, for what on earth had happened here? Why was the front wall’s worth of sliding doors and paper screens laying in a mess of splinters and crumpled paper on the ground?!</p><p>Scarcely had Eian dismounted when the monk attached himself to his sleeve. It was his cousin, though, who first started talking. “Thank the god of the Grand Izumo Shrine, <em>you’re finally here!</em>”</p><p>The monk tugged at his sleeve with one hand, while pointing in the general direction of the house with another, “...have to do something, HE IS A DEMON -”</p><p>His cousin jumped right in, taking his other sleeve hostage, “...I don’t know now what’s happening here exactly anymore, but -”</p><p>They both proceeded to drag him towards the house, and Eian couldn’t help but share the sentiment at the sight of over dozen of black-clad figures, bound and gagged, and most of them unconscious, partially laid out outside the house, partially stuffed inside the drawing-room. His eyes widened when he noticed the crest of his rival clan embroidered with a white thread into their clothing.</p><p>He heard horses neighing, the noise of their hooves hitting the road coming to a stop. His men had just reached the clearing.</p><p>“- he will come back as a VENGEFUL GHOST and <strong><em>destroy us all</em></strong>!” The monk thundered, almost tearing a handful of material off his sleeve.</p><p>“Eian?” Master Nightwing – still alive, thank gods! – called, walking on the frame of a fallen paper screen to join them outside.</p><p>A rush of relief at the sight of him was so strong Eian would have swayed on his feet, if not for the death grip his cousin and the monk had on both his hands.</p><p>Somewhere behind, his men breathed a collective sigh of relief.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Master Nightwing asked, puzzled.</p><p>Putting the two and two together, Eian looked at his blood relative, at the felled enemies (who so distinctively weren’t an ogre), then back at the foreign blue-eyed ninja. He teared up a bit at all the <em>would have been</em>s that hadn’t come to pass and at those that still might.</p><p>Eian answered with a question of his own. “Is Master Red Hood with you?”</p><p>At the mention of the other Bat ninja from the future, his elders looked ready to launch into another tirade, but Eian held up his hand and firmly said, “enough.” He was being impolite and disrespectful, but he already heard enough. Now, it was high time (the highest of all times!) for him to take action. “I will end it right here, right now.”</p><p>“End what?” Speak of the devil and Red Hood shall appear – he stomped over the fallen paper screen and came to stop right next to Master Nightwing. For once, he took his basket hat off, leaving half of his face bare. One of the younger ninjas shuddered at the sight of the green ring around his pupils <em>glowing </em>in the dim light.</p><p>The <em>ofuda </em>from the Grand Shrine of Izumo was firmly in place, attached to his belt.</p><p>...And to think Eian had ever been hesitant to give them his blessing!</p><p>“Ichitarō!” he called and the spooked ninja jumped to attention. “Fetch me a bottle of rice wine and three cups.”</p><p>*</p><p>“Um.” Jason looked doubtfully at the cup of sake Eian thrust right under his nose, feeling rather lost. He kind of expected the heated declaration of <em>ending it right here, right now</em> to be followed by a carnage, or at the very least by demand for an explanation that would eventually lead to said carnage. Instead, he and Dick were sat down on the <em>zabuton</em> pillows and offered a tiny cup of sake, while everyone present – and conscious – on the premises watched like a flock of hungry hawks.</p><p>…The actual fuck.</p><p>“Master Red Hood. Please, drink it in three sips.” Eian instructed, gesturing to the cup with his free hand.</p><p>Jason shared a confused look with the golden boy. While Dickie was certainly pleased with the surprisingly peaceful turn of events, he obviously had no clue what was happening either.</p><p>“Three sips.” Eian prompted. His smile would have been encouraging, had the look in his eyes not been so weirdly intense.</p><p>Jason shrugged. Free booze was free booze, he supposed, and no self-respecting Crime Alley boy would turn it down. He took off his facemask to the choir of choked gasps and relieved sighs (for fuck’s sake, were they expecting <em>fangs and forked tongue</em> or something?!), accepted the proffered cup and brought it to his lips.</p><p>Eian practically tore it away from his hands as soon as he was done.</p><p>Was it just him or…he stole a glance at Dick, and nope, it wasn’t just him; the golden boy was raising his eyebrows at the head of the Ninja Clan too.</p><p>Dick cleared his throat. “So as I was saying, when I realised the lucky charm I found originated from the -” He trailed off when the refilled cup was practically shown in his face. He blinked at it, then at Eian, then at Jason.</p><p>He shared his insight on the situation in the form of a clueless shrug. If the locals wanted to drink bruderschaft with them or something, then why not?</p><p>“Uh,” Dick reluctantly reached out for the cup. “So, when I realised the lucky charm originated from the village of your rival clan -”</p><p>“Three sips, Master Nightwing.” Eian cut right in, impatient.</p><p>Dick eyed the clear liquid sloshing in the cup. The calligrapher nodded at him in approval, his eyes shining with unshed tears; not for the first time this evening, Jason wondered what the hell was wrong with that guy.</p><p>“So,” Dick started again once he downed his sake, like instructed, dead set on recounting his detective work. There was a crease between his brows – a little tell that the famous Nightwing temper was spiking, set off by the interruptions. “Once I connected the lucky charm to your rival clan -”</p><p>And everything he was saying went right over Eian’s head who was clearly too engrossed in the act of pouring alcohol into a slightly bigger cup to pay him any attention. The crease between Dick’s eyebrows grew deeper.</p><p>Jason decided it was a good moment to discreetly inch his way out of the splatter zone.</p><p>“And remembered the word of their plans to -” Dick blinked when the cup, without so much as by your leave, was put into his hands. “Am I supposed to drink it again…?”</p><p>The ninja, the calligrapher, the monk and the household staff peaking curiously through the crack between sliding doors all nodded in unison.</p><p>And that was Jason’s cue to take his turn frowning. The feeling from earlier that evening came back full force – something was going on here behind his and Dickie’s back, and he did not appreciate being kept in the dark.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, neither did Dickie. “Okay,” he said with a nod, but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”</p><p>“Because it’s tradition,” Eian said.</p><p>Was it? Jason had his doubts now. If this was indeed some sort of ritual to express gratitude, for whatever reason deemed more pressing a task than doing something about over a dozen attackers lying by the pile of rubble that used to be the front wall… Then shouldn’t they be sharing sake with everyone?</p><p>Dick hardly looked satisfied by the answer but brought the cup to his lips anyway.</p><p>“I heard about their plans to give up their samurai status,” he went back to his explanation, handing the cup back before it could be yanked away. “And I remembered you mentioned a relative in possession of a scroll containing secrets of your metallurgical techniques.”</p><p>A scroll that now laid between him and Jason. The calligrapher had dug it out of a decorative chest dragged to the drawing-room by his servants and gave it to Dick with a low bow. He was lamenting how the urgency prevented them from doing <em>this</em> (what?) properly but <em>Master Nightwing deserved at least one gift for his new household</em>. Dickie looked as puzzled as Jason felt at those words, but the calligrapher was shushed by his cousin, his friend and half the ninja crowding on the tatami mats behind them before he could provide some much-needed context.</p><p>“On the off chance my hunch might be right, Red Hood and I decided to discreetly stand guard here tonight,” Dick finished his story.</p><p>His words were completely ignored, though, as their audience was currently captivated by Jason and the mighty frown he was directing at the cup that was unceremoniously thrust into his hands.</p><p>Eian was already pouring alcohol into yet another one, the biggest of all three.</p><p>It bore repeating – what the actual fuck.</p><p>The sound of Dick clearing his throat was passive-aggression in its essence. “That leaves the question of how you came to know that something here was amiss.”</p><p>Was it his imagination or did Eian and his cousin just exchange a meaningful glance?</p><p>“Yeah,” Jason chimed in once he drained the cup. “And what do you plan to do with them?” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the bound attackers. Not that he was terribly interested in the subject of Bat Clan’s feuds and grudges, as that was very much not his nor Dick’s business, but if a potential carnage was scheduled anytime soon, he would appreciate some heads up. If only to keep his ray of sunshine away from the deed.</p><p>“We will negotiate terms of their release with their clan.” Eian handed him the new cup, addressing only the second question.</p><p>Jason pursed his lips. This <em>whatever</em> was starting to feel like some kind of messed up conspiracy which was about the last thing they needed on top of Gotham criminals (and Deathstroke) living their best lives as feudal lords, and the Old Bat gallivanting the fuck knows where instead of getting his shit together and – a crazy thought – <em>helping out</em>.</p><p>Also, the gawking was seriously getting on his nerves. He was willing to bet his eyes were greening up again, as everyone save for the golden boy was rapidly paling and the monk was nervously rolling the prayer beads between his fingers.</p><p>Sensing the danger, Eian was quick to assure. “We’re almost done!”</p><p>Well then, might as well get the fuck over with it. He grabbed the proffered cup, doing his best to ignore the bulging eyes, the bated breaths, and his annoyance spiking up to high heavens.</p><p>Eian refilled the cup the second he got it back. “Master Nightwing?” He handed him the freshly poured sake, and all the attention turned back to Dick.</p><p>The golden boy bit his lower lip, visibly taken aback by the sheer intensity of the stares.</p><p><em>Almost done</em>, Eian had said and something changed in the air. Jason couldn’t put his finger on it, but all of sudden the tension in the room was almost palpable. Dick exchanged another look with him, growing apprehensive.</p><p>“Three sips, Master Nightwing,” Eian whispered.</p><p>Very hesitantly, as if he would rather be doing literally anything else, Dick took the first sip.</p><p>Unconsciously, their audience leaned in closer. Jason heard the servants scuffle for the best spot by the sliding door.</p><p>Dick stole another glance at him as if to ask whether he should continue or not. Jason hated that again, the only response he could give was a helpless shrug.</p><p>Frowning something fierce, Dick took another sip. The staring intensified, impossibly so, and the room went so quiet they would be able to hear a pin drop.</p><p>(...There was something about two people exchanging sake three times like that, wasn’t there? A forgotten piece of knowledge, maybe some trivia he had heard in the passing. It was scratching at the back of his mind, but for the life of him, Jason couldn’t remember what it was.)</p><p>Dick took the last sip.</p><p>“Congratulations on your marriage!” Eian smiled proudly and the whole residence broke into cheers.</p><p>The empty cup fell from Dick’s slackened fingers.</p><p>“What?” Jason politely inquired, because surely he hadn’t heard that quite right; his voice got lost in the sound of merriment.</p><p>“Now you don’t have to commit lovers’ suicide!” The calligrapher cheered, his eyes glittering with the tears of joy.</p><p>“<em>What?!</em>” Dick almost gave himself a whiplash, snapping his head up in alarm.</p><p>At once, hands were grabbing at them, dragging them up to their feet and away from their seats. Household servants were grinning widely, sliding paper screens away to make way for the joyful if chaotic procession, while congratulations and well-wishes were spilling left, right and centre, and Jason reverted into himself because an error had occurred and now his mind was restarting in safe mode.</p><p>Eian pushed his way through the cheery crowd to stand in front of them. “Fear not.” A benevolent smile softened the hard lines of his face. “Should the mighty Bat Shinobi be cross and disapprove of this union, I will take responsibility and commit honourable suicide.”</p><p>“<strong><em>WHAT?!</em></strong>”</p><p><em>Yeah, what he said</em>, Jason thought weakly, a bout of hysterical laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.</p><p>“Now, we need to take our leave and to attend to the matter of an attack on my cousin. We shall hold a proper celebration for your nuptials back in our village, but tonight, you can…<em>embrace</em> each other here.” A touch of red dusted his serious face. “No one shall disturb you.” He promised.</p><p>Out of nowhere appeared another set of paper screens; grinning servants were sliding it closed, separating the cheery crowd from the freaked out newlyweds. Like that, Jason and Dick suddenly found themselves alone in a small room furnished with one futon and a paper-covered lantern.</p><p>“WE’RE MARRIED.” Jason himself didn’t know if he was saying that or asking or expressing his bewilderment, or maybe just succumbing to the Pit madness.</p><p>Dickie looked up at him like he couldn’t quite decide which question should break the dam and let his confusion flow out. Eventually, he settled for, “<strong><em>how</em></strong>?” Followed by incredulous, “a <em>lovers’ suicide</em>?!” That was chased by downright crazed “take responsibility AND COMMIT A <em>WHAT</em>?!” And finished with more level-headed, “is this, like, legally binding?”</p><p>All of which were excellent questions that raised valid points of concern. Unfortunately, the locals left them without satisfactory answers, and Jason himself felt that his grasp of the situation was only good enough to attempt addressing the last query. “Probably not back home, but here…” He swallowed. “I guess, it is…?”</p><p>It dawned on him anew that not only he and <strong>Dick Grayson</strong> had been <em>MARRIED OFF</em> to each other, they also had no fucking clue how, or even better, <em>why</em> it happened. Despite them both being right there when the thing was taking place.</p><p>If his life here was riddled with absurdity before, what with the weaponised castles and samurai penguins to name a few, then now it officially got an upgrade to a fucking nonsense.</p><p>“I mean,” Dick gave him a rather shaky smile, but oddly enough, he wasn’t freaking out nearly as much as Jason himself was. “I’m sure we’re all going to have a good laugh about it in the future.”</p><p>Jason felt himself wilt inside at that. While logically he knew that the golden boy only meant to lighten up the mood, the thought of his pining ass and the golden boy in the context of a serious, committed relationship being a joke – a fucking <em>amusing anecdote</em> to have few laughs over during team-building exercises for yet another group of caped vigilantes or some other shit – that was just <strong>no</strong>. A hard pass. A rebuttal. A negation. NO.</p><p>Dick was looking up at him, thoughtful. “Or maybe not,” he said, a shrewd glint in his eyes. “Maybe there’s nothing funny about it at all.”</p><p>Jason bristled – no, that wasn’t quite right. He wanted to bristle because Dickie was implying something and he didn’t like that one bit – but then, the golden boy was inviting himself into his personal space, and…<em>damn</em>, his eyes were so pretty, how was he so wonderful and perfect, and not to mention <em>still looking at him</em>, and Jason, standing close enough to count his eyelashes, a centre of his attention, at last, felt oddly nervous, throat dry, palms clammy.</p><p>So yeah, bristle he did not.</p><p>“You know what?” Dick kept his voice light, but the look in his eyes was anything but. “Since we’re apparently <em>lawfully wedded</em>, I’m just going to say it outright. I like you. And I’m pretty sure that you like me too.” In the dim light of the sole lantern, Dick’s face took on a darker hue which was only fair, as Jason’s own was burning. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to freak out,”<em> like you are right now</em> remained unsaid but was clearly communicated with the unimpressed downturn of his mouth. “So I’ve been trying to tactfully let you know that I like you, hoping <em>you</em> would say or do something about it…” He bit on his lower lip. “But you never did.”</p><p>Jason distantly realised he should probably say something <em>now</em>, but unfortunately, he was still stuck a few sentences behind, processing the <em>I like you</em> part. And by processing, he meant the words were echoing endlessly in the blankness that was his mind, whilst he was unable to drag his eyes from that plush mouth coloured tempting red.</p><p>
  <strike>(Also:<em> tactfully flirting</em>, the HELL, how was Jason supposed to know?!) </strike>
</p><p>“I liked working cases and just, you know...hanging out with you. Even before we got here. But then, the other day, back in the hidden village...” Dick lowered his voice, his face growing even darker. His eyes flickered to the side as if he was feeling shy all of sudden.</p><p>In hindsight, that should have been his clue. That should have been his fucking clue, because Dickie had an embarrassment threshold way higher than him, so it was safe to say that whatever had him this flustered would destroy Jason’s soul. Yet there he was, standing like an unsuspecting statue when Dick looked him in the eye again and delivered the killing blow.</p><p>“I know that you like poetry and that you, uh, write sometimes. ...I swear I wasn’t snooping, but you left it lying about and I didn’t know what it was. And ever since I read it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”</p><p>Jason was frowning throughout that little speech, unsure what Dickie was trying to get at, and with the bedroom eyes he was giving him – unsure if he even cared. But something about his words was like a persistent little nudge, coaxing the synapses in his brain to align just right for the dots to connect.</p><p>And once they finally did, his eyes widened in eldritch horror.</p><p><em>No! Fuck! No, fuck, please, no! No! </em>“You read my poem?” Jason choked out through the mental screams, spiralling down the drain of life-ending mortification. Because while Dickie stumbling upon any of his works was all kinds of terrible rolled in one, him reading a piece on the erotica end of the spectrum – which he probably did, given his dark blush and Jason’s rotten luck – meant the only person committing an honourable suicide anytime soon in here would be Jason.</p><p>Biting on his lower lip again, Dick nodded.</p><p>“Right.” Jason stiffly nodded back. “Excuse me while I go kill myself.” That, or wait for the embarrassment to burn him alive until all that was left of him was a pile of shamed ashes.</p><p>“What?” Dick blinked, surprised. “Oh, come on, Jay!” He laughed brightly as if Jason just landed the funniest joke ever. “You can’t widow me on our wedding night!”</p><p>With a loud groan, Jason hid his face in his palms.</p><p>“Or maybe I was mistaken,” Dick said offhandedly, a playful timbre in his voice. “Maybe it wasn’t me you had in mind when you wrote how you want to -”</p><p>…And Jason needed him to shut the fuck up right this second. He needed it so damn badly, he even assisted him with the deed. In a blink of an eye, he had the golden boy in his arms, silenced the second Jason’s lips found his.</p><p>(What? He deserved at least one kiss from the love of his fucking life before saying goodbye to this cruel world.)</p><p>Dick let out a surprised gasp, but a second later he was smiling into the kiss like Jason had just played into his cards; like goading him into this action had been the plan all along. The thought pissed him off, so he grazed with teeth that lip Dickie was so fond of biting and fucking abused it.</p><p>“It was you.” He admitted as soon as they broke away for air, his voice raspy. “It’s always been you.”</p><p>Dick was looking up at him, short of breath. “Always?” His fingers were still clutching Jason’s sleeves.</p><p>Jason cupped the side of his face. “I can’t do a one-time thing, Dickie.” He said, willing him to understand. “Not with you.”</p><p>“You know Jay,” Dick leaned into his touch. “Contrary to the popular belief, you don’t bathe in blood,” his eyes narrowed, “<em>and I don’t sleep around</em>. So how about we give this a shot?” He let go of his sleeve to gesture between them. “We can take it slow if you want -”</p><p>Jason leaned down and silenced him again, but if their first kiss was hard and featured way too much teeth, then this one was softer, sensual. Indulgent. With a gentle sweep of tongue, Jason soothed the hurt he had inflicted earlier; with each press of lips, he coaxed that plush mouth open. When he deepened their kiss, he was pleased to hear a breath hitch, pleased to feel hands sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck, because there was a sense of urgency between them now, and Dickie wanted him <em>closer</em>.</p><p>Jason wanted him closer too. He wanted to kiss every breathless moan away from his lips, to feel his warmth against his own naked skin. He needed to push that drab kimono Dickie wore out of the way, and when his finger brushed a spot below his ear, Jason found that he could not live not knowing where else his touch could elicit such a delicious little shiver. Devoted to his studies, he had to trace every inch of that golden skin and chase every touch with a kiss. He had to press Dickie so close he would feel his excitement, make him so lost in pleasure he would never ever think to look away from him.</p><p>So yeah, Jason wanted to cherish it, but there was no way in hell he could take it slow.</p><p>They were both breathless when they broke away again. Dick was looking up at him in wonder, his lips kiss-swollen.</p><p>“Or we can celebrate our wedding night, I guess.”</p>
<hr/><p>A few days later in a teahouse in Owari Province, Tim choked on his black tea.</p><p><em>Whatever was that slip of paper you gave me</em>, Jason wrote in his letter, <em>it made everyone go batshit crazy (pun very much intended) and now the golden boy and I are married.</em></p><p>Tim knew that Todd was gone on Dick since day one and Dick did seem rather…sweet on Todd lately, but what did he mean <em>MARRIED</em>. And why was he implying Tim had anything do with it?</p><p>The letter clutched in one hand, he abandoned his tea to go fetch his satchel, his mind already switched into detective mode. He had acquired two keepsakes: one from the Grand Shrine of Izumo, another from the temple on Mount Osore. He presented Todd with the latter, because – Tim could hardly contain his snicker at his highly intellectual joke – the landscape of said mountain apparently resembled the descriptions of Buddhist hell. With Jason being the way he was, and with all the rumour about Red Hood flying throughout the country, him parading around with a temple keepsake from a place believed the gateways to the afterlife (and conveniently located in the direction of the Demon’s Gate) was so fitting <strike>and hilarious</strike> Tim just couldn’t help himself. But while Todd rocking that keepsake had the potential to make <em>everyone go batshit crazy</em>, how on earth did it result in him and Dick GETTING MARRIED?</p><p>…Unless of course, the lack of readily available coffee beans (also known as forced detox) messed Tim up so badly, he ended up giving Todd the wrong trinket. But no, surely he did not!</p><p>Right?</p><p>Well, no time like the present to make sure, he supposed. If he presented Todd with the keepsake from Mount Osore, as he intended, then the other one, from the Grand Shrine of Izumo, should be in the satchel with all the useful trinkets Tim had acquired so far. He rummaged in it for a minute or two until he finally spotted the piece of paper and took it out with a triumphant smile.</p><p>That was wiped out off his face a mere second later, for the keepsake in his hand was very much not from the Grand Shrine of Izumo – no, that one Tim himself had stupidly handed to Todd in a moment of a coffee-less daze. And Todd strutted with it all over the hidden village, making the Bat Clan think he – <em>what, prayed there for the <strong>wedded bliss</strong>?</em> – and entering the holy matrimony with Dick.</p><p>“Oh damn,” Tim whispered, both sheepish and incredulous. “I might have caused this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dear recipient of this fic,<br/>If reading this story made you half as happy as I was while writing it, then my job here is done.<br/>Thank you for the woderful prompt!</p><p>Explanations for all the references I made to Japanese culture are available <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/post/628976673830944768/cultural-references-in-they-are-out-there-saying">here</a> 😊.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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